


Everybody's Heard (Bird is the Word)

by TimTheToaster (tabletoptime)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Eavesdropping hurts yo, Gen, I was so determined to be canon compliant, and then dc timelines made me sad, apologies if you don't like how i treated your obscure faves, for a fic all about Tim he actually has yet to appear, so one of these things is not like the others, still a sad bean tho, update:the boy is in the house!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabletoptime/pseuds/TimTheToaster
Summary: 5 times Batman heard other heroes talking about his wayward brother,And 1 time they were talking about his son.





	1. Don't you know about the bird?

It had been a long day, and now on the Watchtower Dick was starting to wonder if he could pull rank and get someone to cover his monitor duty for the evening. He was still covering both the Batman _ and _ the Nightwing slots, even though he was only going out in the cowl. He would appreciate the way it stopped him from losing any perspective outside of Gotham, but would it be too much to ask for a break?

The answer was _ yes, of course it was _ because he was the Bat now and couldn’t afford to have weaknesses or humanity the same way Nightwing could. Dick could ask for help, and people would understand, people would do everything they could because they _ got _ where he was at these days. But as a figurehead of a whole different kind, by asking for that help he would practically be declaring he couldn’t handle the cowl. Didn’t matter if he actually could or not, because he _ had to _ . Batman needed to be a pillar, a boots on the ground _ beacon _. 

So Dick was here, on the Watchtower at the cusp of ass o’clock. And despite the beating the community had taken over the last few weeks, people were on top of their own messes. No need for intervention from the JLA. It edged that yawning pit in his chest with something warm again, that they could recover, that they _ would _. That they would move on, and keep fighting.

Still, pretty boring to watch. 

Time to check on all the secret Batcams in the Tower. Keeping up on all the gossip was totally part of being the big, bad Bat. Totally.

Cafeteria, the usual high school politics of seating arrangements. Looked like the tension over Ollie and Hal’s decisions had relegated them to their own table by the air vents. Prime pranking territory. 

Locker room, Ray Palmer seemed to be wrestling with his lock _ again _. For a genius he really didn’t seem to get that the locks worked left-right-left specifically to confuse people. Dick would bet another ten minutes and he’d just shrink down and climb in to get to his stuff. 

Hallway, hallway, hall- ooh looked like Dr. Light and Vixen were having some kind of on-the-low conversation in a corner. Dick turned the audio up on his headset. 

“-don’t see why no one ever _ explains _ these things. For a team this kind of thing matters.” That was Dr. Light, sounding irritated.

“It’s always been out of respect for privacy. People don’t have to disclose everything about all their past allies just to get on the team.” Vixen had her arms crossed, but her balance was casual. So probably not _ her _ secrets the discussion was about. 

“More like a respect for Batman’s ability to kick your ass, superpowers or not,” Dr. Light scoffed. “But no one ever even really _ talks _ about the messes in Gotham, and with a new Bat why _ shouldn’t _ we start to step in?”

Vixen’s arms came apart to put a hand between them. “Hey now, you don’t want in on the action in Gotham. No one in their right mind does. Batman has had four different Robins. Five, if you count the new kid. The current Batman is the only one to come out of it in one piece. Second one and the girl both _ died _ on the job. Arguably they’re better off than the third though.”

“You mean the tiny one with the bo? Where’d he even go? I kinda figured he died too, in whatever that crap was that put Nightwing in the cowl.” Dr. Light was blunt and it burned in Dick’s gut how close she was to being right. Tim had nearly died, _ would have _ if it weren’t for Bruce’s more armoured suit, if it weren’t for a crazy, last ditch training technique, if Damian had been a little slower in finding him. _ If, if, if _. 

It had been so close.

“No he’s not dead. Probably, at least. Apparently, after the Bat died, he snapped and insisted he was just lost. Went full delusional and disappeared to try and find him. Hence why the new Batman has a new Robin.” A bit callous, and it glossed over a lot of details, but Dick had to admit it was a decent summary that kept their secrets. 

Dr. Light frowned, “And what, we’re just letting him run around? Someone that unstable with that kind of training could do a lot of damage. And that’s not even getting into the secret identities he must know.”

A graceful shrug, “I’m letting Bats make that call for now. I’m not going to get into that ‘proactive justice,’ debate again but if he starts committing crimes on his goose chase? He’s still just a kid and shouldn’t be hard to handle.”

“Then what? Because it sounds like he needs some serious therapy. Take him back to Gotham and let Arkham handle yet another local nutcase?” Dick tasted bile at the echoes of his own last conversation with Tim. Dr. Light opened her mouth to continue, but Dick couldn’t listen to more of this. He got the gist. 

Dick flipped the cameras back to planetary monitoring. He wasn’t really in the mood for any more gossip. 

\--

“-want to tell Dick, or should I?” is what Dick catches as he’s adjusting the sensitivity of the batsuits microphones. Cowls were not conducive to actually hearing things without cheating, but he couldn’t seem to find a good level that worked in the field and didn’t require adjustment for normal conversation.

But this sounded worth hearing, so maybe Dick would just… Leave them a little higher than normal and return to the rest of his equipment maintenance. 

“You saw the break-in and altercation, that would make you best suited to describe the situation, no?” Kory and Vic. Why would they be worried about who had to tell him about a break-in? Was it one of his safehouses left in New York or San Francisco, was it in Gotham? Did they think he’d be mad that they were in the city?

The fuzzy buzz of tech trying to convey a sigh, “He’s going to get emotional about this. You have more experience handling that. C’mon just help me out on this one.”

“It may not even be as serious as it seemed. We have both worked alongside Tim, we know out of context his actions sometimes appear worse than the eventual results.” The tension in Dick’s jaw wound another degree tighter. Kory was trying to downplay whatever they’d seen. Not a great sign.

Vic seemed to agree, “He broke into a museum in Germany with three unknown accomplices. There was a firefight and he took down a Global Guardian. There’s reasonable doubt, and then there’s not facing the facts. That’s criminal action.”

“So is vigilantism. As I understand it, Batman and his Robins have always been prone to illegal entry during investigations. This is not unusual.” Kory had a point, but it did nothing to stem the sinking feeling that accompanied the picture they built.

Tim was in Europe, committing crimes, still chasing down his delusions. “Firefight” implied guns on both sides of the conflict. Tim’s aversion to guns was nearly as bad as Bruce’s had been, ever since that run in with his evil future self. If he was using one now that was a very, very bad sign. 

Dick blinked back the image of Jason’s bastardized batsuit, of Tim in it instead, and focused on the conversation.

“I don’t want it to be true anymore than you do, but Batman is dead and Tim isn’t Robin. He’s running around in one of the Red Hood’s old suits, emphasis on the _ red _. If he’s going darkside we need to head him off sooner rather than later.” 

“This is the first instance of outright criminal behaviour, yes? That does not indicate ‘going darkside.’ Perhaps we should reach out to him. Or we could simply ‘keep an eye out’ for further behaviour before casting judgement.” There were slight pauses that suggested Kory had probably used finger quotes. Part of Dick wanted to cling to the lifeline that she was throwing, to believe that this wasn’t a sign Tim was starting down a dark path, but the weight of the armoured cape on his shoulders reminded him that a lot of things had gotten a lot darker, recently.

“Normally I’d agree with that, but this is Tim. It’s entirely possible this isn’t the first thing he’s done, just the first time he ran into trouble doing it. I’ve gone through some Interpol reports, and there’s the occasional instance of vigilante activity that _ could _ have been him. There’s also the occasional crime that he could be responsible for. Almost nothing is conclusive.” Vic didn’t sound happy about it. Dick got the feeling. 

The sound of two light footsteps, Dick could imagine Kory reaching out to put a hand on Vic’s shoulder, “None of what we know is conclusive. If the reports are in databases, Dick will see them. Tim is his brother, it is ultimately his decision. If he wants our assistance then we will provide it, but I trust him to do what is right. And perhaps Tim is not lost yet.”

And now there were multiple flavours of guilt in his chest. Dick knew he hadn’t always done right by Kory, and to hear that she still had faith in him was humbling. He just hoped she was right. 

Because Dick had no idea what to do.

\--

For what felt like the millionth time, Dick wished Tim was here.

Connor Kent and Bart Allen. Both back from the dead (and the future, apparently? God, speedster shenanigans were a headache), back with their friends and teammates and no sign of Tim. Dick had sent him a message, it was the least he could do, but hadn’t gotten a response.

The questions were inevitable. _ Where’s Tim _?, as if Dick knew anymore. Probably still Europe, but he couldn’t be certain. Tim was really making an effort to stay under the radar.

Except it seemed like the Titans were going to be talking about their wayward bird, and _ they _ were all much easier to track. So, after moving a suitable distance away, Dick activated the bug he’d left behind and settled into a shadowy corner to listen.

“You have no _ idea _ how good it is to see you two again.” Cassie’s voice was wet even through the speakers and the emotion there was almost enough to make Dick feel a pang at intruding. Almost. “It’s… It’s been a really rough few months.”

A pause and some rustling. Probably a hug, if Dick had to guess. “It’s good to see you too, Cassie. The future was _ weird _ . I’m glad to be home.” Connor, followed up with some kind of a wet noise. Probably _ not _ a hug. 

_ Teenagers. _ A moment, and then _ oh god I’m turning into Bruce _.

“Yeah it was fun for a while, but the 21st century is where it’s at! Speaking of where things are, though, where’s Tim at? Bat-dicks was being cagey about it.” Bart’s words were as fast as ever, and it sounded like he was pacing or maybe doing laps.

The pause this time was tight, and Dick counted out the snap. Three, two, one- “Tim thinks Batman is alive. The first one. He’s out there looking for him. Kory said reports put him just about all over Europe.”

“Wait, Batman is _ alive? _ I figured if Nightwing was in the cowl the old one _ had _ to be dead. Why is Tim the only one looking for him?” Something about that instant faith bit deep; if _ Tim _ thought so, of course it was true. Connor really was one hell of a friend.

“No, Kon, Tim just _ thinks _ so. After losing Bart, neither of us took your death well. I joined a cult, he went full mad scientist. I had thought he got better, but… When Batman died he refused to accept it. I called Nightwing hoping he could help, but instead Tim disappeared and now _ Batman _ won’t even tell me if he’s _ okay _,” Cassie was crying now, and Connor was making these little shushing noises. Bart’s footsteps had stopped so he had probably joined the hug. It would have been sweet if that pang of guilt hadn’t come back with a vengeance to claw at Dick’s throat.

“Hey, hey Cassie, it’s okay. We’ll find him. And I think I speak for both of us when I say we are so sorry for leaving you two alone. We’re back now, and we’ll find Tim and it’ll be the four of us, all together, like it’s _ supposed _ to be,” that was Bart, slowing down to comfort his friend even if he wasn’t quite right. Tim belonged in Gotham, with his _ family _, first and foremost. “And hey, it’s Tim. For all that he can get carried away sometimes, he usually doesn’t believe something for no reason. Maybe he’s right?”

A sniffle, Wonder Girl wiping away her tears, “We have the body, Bart. It was Darkseid, and Superman himself brought back the body. Tim believes he’s alive because he _ had _ to. I don’t think he could take another loss. But with you two back maybe he won’t have to anymore. We should go find him, talk to him, bring him _ home. _”

“No offense Cassie, but you had our bodies, too. Hell, I think mine is still up in the Fortress of Solitude. Dead doesn’t mean what it used to. If Tim thinks Batman is alive, then well damn. He just might be.” 

Bart hummed slightly, though it came out too fast, almost a whine. Dick recognized it as the sound Wally used to make while doing homework, another bite of nostalgia. “That’s a tricky one, Kon. Tim could be right, but he could be wrong. It’s possible he actually has evidence. But a body is a body, and most people don’t get resurrected a thousand years in the future. Either way though, _ Cassie _ is right. We should go find him. Talk it over. No one’s crazy until proven otherwise, right? Even if Gothamites are a little bonkers to start with, which might mess with the measures. Think we can pin down Batman and the Batgirls for a sample population? See if it’s a vigilante versus civilian thing, or maybe they’re all just _ batshit _.”

Cassie choked out a laugh. “I think that goes without saying. But I’ll worry first and foremost about _ our _bird,” another sniff, and her voice steadied. “It’s so good to have you back.” 

Another wet sound, and _ ew, _ listening to teenagers kiss was _ not _ what Dick had been going for here. “I’ll keep an ear out for him, and as soon as I have a free moment I’ll go talk to him. In the meantime, I think we need to have a team movie night. Race you guys to the Tower?”

“Oh you’re so _ on _, winner picks the popcorn topping,” and Bart was off, a zip of lighting flitting past Dick’s hiding place. 

“You cheater! C’mon Cassie, let’s show him how it’s done!” another blur, this one black, red, and blue flew past. Dick began his throw when Connor started speaking so the tracker landed neatly on a shoe. For when he went after Tim.

Cassie followed at a more sedate pace, passing Dick at a light jog and giving him a good look at her. Her eyes were still shiny and red, but her smile was glowing. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re going to find him. We’re going to be okay.”

Despite the surety of her words and the tracker in place, Dick still swallowed around broken glass and rusty nails. 

\--

This new Justice League was actually working. Although the roster was a lot more malleable these days, they were actually doing the job pretty well and had even got through a teamup without anyone seriously losing their cool or pitching a fit.

A handful of heroes from both the JL and the Justice Society were congregating as the clean up wrapped up, little groups migrating together to start catching up. It was a weird dynamic where most of these people only saw each other during or just after a crisis, but still had all these details about their lives that led to a really odd kind of small talk. 

Normally, Dick would have picked his way through the rubble to talk to some of them, but he’d tweaked his bad knee during the fight and was trying to figure out the least painful way to leave without anyone noticing. It was probably going to involve some kind of elaborate diversion and a broken streetlight. With all the damage he wasn’t even going to have to break one himself.

Which meant all there was left to orchestrate was to choose who was getting pranked so he could go.

Hm… Looked like Jesse Quick and Starman were having a talk, and Jesse could usually take a joke. Mikaal, not so much, but he’d probably let it go. 

Dick casually sidled into a better position to aim the laser pointer he kept in his belt for Damian to “steal” so he could play with stray cats. Superheroes, felines, and feral little brothers all got very distracted by little red dots, after all. As he got into range, however, Dick caught a snippet of their conversation.

“I just don’t know how you balance everything so easily. Every time I try, things seem to fall apart,” it sounded like Mikaal was asking for… advice? 

Jesse rested a reassuring hand on Mikaal’s shoulder, “It’s not easy, and that’s the point. And growing up in it helps. But you have to keep moving forward. The community has enough examples of what happens when you can’t let go of the past. You deserve better than becoming another one.”

A fractured smile, “I’m trying, but is our community not proof in itself that grief cannot always be overcome?” That was certainly a pessimistic take, but Dick supposed Mikaal had more reason to see the glass as half empty than most.

“No, our community is proof that grief isn’t a bad thing, that it can be used to do good. You don’t have to forget, but you cannot live for it either.” Her eyes were sharper now, but the warmth hadn’t faded. “The old Batman did that, and he died. One of his proteges did the same, and now he’s chasing a dead man across the world. You have to be more than what you’ve lost.”

It was a thin line between honest and rude, and Jesse was pressing her luck with this. What the hell did Jesse Quick know about Dick’s family anyways?

“It doesn’t matter what you start with, there will always be something you can lose. Your friends, your family, your heroes, your mind. The third Robin came in with all four, and he fixated on his losses. Ended up without any of them. He was a good kid and a good vigilante, but he couldn’t keep his eyes ahead. These days he’s barely a step-up from villainy and who knows if he’s going to slip?” The stab of fury was bone-deep, but it paled in comparison to the wave of _ oh god not again _ that filled Dick’s lungs. 

At least when Jason died there had been some reverence for the loss of a kid. Tim was still alive and hurting, wasn’t lost yet, and here she was using him as a cautionary tale. And she was _ still talking _.

“You’ve made mistakes, we all have, but you’re a good man and you still have time. You still have friends. Even if this new Justice League doesn’t work out, you’ll always have a place with the Justice Society. You won’t fall to the wayside, I promise. Despite what the Bats seem to think, taking a legacy title doesn’t make you replaceable.”

Some part of Dick could recognize that this speech was probably helping Mikaal. Mostly though he was trying to breathe evenly. The laser pointer in his hand felt so, so small. 

Mikaal’s smile was less broken this time, “I appreciate your faith, and I will not forget your offer. This Justice League is far from a lost cause, however. I believe we can truly do good work together. Thank you for standing by me.”

Jesse grinned back, her grip tightening before releasing, “Any time. And good job today, it was great to fight-” With only half of his heart in it, Dick aimed the laser at a fragment of a wing mirror on the sidewalk, angling it to just so happen to catch Jesse in the eye.”Ow, shit!”

Heads whipped around, everyone still riding enough adrenaline to snap to attention in a second. And there was Dick’s cue to leave, before he was tempted to use something stronger than a cat toy.

\--

It had been a nightmare.

The dead, not just walking but stalking and fighting. Power rings and undead murderers with the only escape being a freezing not-quite-death. Harkness. Zucco. His _ parents. _

And Tim, the first Dick had heard from him in months.

Fighting beside his brother again had, despite the circumstances, been a breath of fresh air. For all that Dick had come to love Damian, there was still an extra layer of caution underlying their work. It just wasn’t safe to fully take his eyes off of Damian most of the time, so Dick had to stay aware of not just potential threats, but also potential places _ Damian _ might take it too far or overreach himself. Tim wasn’t like that. Dick could trust Tim to handle himself, to ask for help, to cover his back all without having to say a word. He’d missed it. 

He hoped Tim had too.

He had also hoped Tim would stay to help rebuild, and yet before the dust had even settled and the dead been reburied, Tim had been on his way to the airport.

So maybe not.

Dick had been headed to Bruce’s grave to take a moment, to feel that ache again, so he could return his focus on the present. But when he approached, there were Hal and Barry standing by the unmarked headstone. 

He ought to turn around, to go wait a respectful distance away so they could have whatever conversation they needed to have, say their own goodbyes. But Bruce was _ his _ father, dammit, and Dick was so tired. He just wanted to have this and sleep for a week. Or at least eight hours straight.

So instead of slinking away and waiting by the gates like he should have, Dick ducked behind and scaled the nearest tree. Perching and glaring would make him feel better about the delay, hopefully. With a spike of pain, Dick wondered if maybe that was why Bruce did it all the time. 

“I think _ dead _ is _ dead _ from here on out,” Hal was speaking and Dick got it, that with the recent wave of undeath it was seriously worth asking if it would continue, if they could never be safe in knowing who was gone and who was just taking a sabbatical, but _ couldn’t they take this somewhere else? _ He was so busy fighting down the reflexive resentment, Hal’s next words nearly dropped him from the tree.

“Except for him. That Black Lantern Batman didn’t recognize any of us. It wasn’t Bruce.” Ice, ice, _ ice _, Dick felt frozen to the fingertips and a breath away from shattering.

He hadn’t seen the thing in the batsuit. He’d been grateful he hadn’t had to face off against both of his fathers. That neither Tim nor Damian had had to hear whatever it was going to say. He hadn’t seen it. 

“Tim Drake is right. Bruce is _ alive _.” 

Dick couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t kill that spark of hope he’d fought down when Tim had said the same thing months ago. _ Bruce is alive _ , _ alive, alive _, like a heartbeat sending cracks through the ice. 

“Do you think the kid actually knew that, or do you think he just got lucky? You made him sound like a good kid, but word is ‘the Crazy Robin’ went looking before whatever this thing is,” a loose kick at the headstone. “Went cold. What kind of proof could he possibly have had?”

He was going to be sick. Dick was going to throw up right on top of them from this tree, and maybe then they’d stop talking. Tim wasn’t crazy, he was unwell, he needed help, he was Dick’s little brother he wasn’t crazy (_ Jason wasn’t crazy either. Except when he was _).

_ Tim Drake is right _. 

Hands in his pockets, Hal shrugged, and how could he be so casual about this? “Hard to say. As I understand it, he had a bad run of a year. Maybe he actually snapped. But whatever reasons he started the search for, the kid is a Bat. If Bruce is out there, he’ll find the proof. It’s not like crazy ever stopped the Red Hood, right?”

“It’s always another vigilante stopping him, though, and isn’t that close enough to crazy?” Screw vomiting, Dick was going to drop down and _ murder them _. “In all seriousness, if Bruce is out there he might turn up on his own. Nothing can keep him anywhere he doesn’t want to be for long. It could just be a matter of time. And if Tim Drake finds something or asks for help, we can step in.”

“When did space crime become the simple stuff to take care of? For a bunch of normal but scary dudes, the Bats sure get involved in a lot.” Dick was going to feed Hal his teeth, one by one. 

“Speaking of ‘space stuff,’ what about the Entity? The White Light?” and just like that, the conversation turned away from Dick’s family as if they were simply another topic on a checklist to discuss before they left the graveyard. His _ family’s _ graveyard.

It gave Dick the time to catch his breath, to control the rage that beat at his ribs. The hope, though, wouldn’t leave.

_ Bruce is alive _.


	2. A-well-a-bird

Being back in the right time was. Nice. Confusing. Often frustrating. But mostly nice. 

Bruce was well aware that in a lot of ways he was different from the man who had been thrown into the past a year (several lifetimes) ago. He had installed a clock and calendar extension into the top corner of every device he worked on. He didn’t really have the stomach for processed foods anymore. He forgot, sometimes, that there were people he could call on for assistance.

It didn’t help that those people had changed, both in his memory and around him. Some were easier than others. Dick was Robin, was Nightwing, was Batman, was in Bludhaven-Gotham-New York-San Francisco. Damian was blood, was dangerous, was Robin (his son, but not  _ his  _ Robin). Alfred was butler-caretaker-father- _ home _ . 

There were some fixed points that helped ground him. His city; nothing had ever sounded quite the same as Gotham’s morning commute or it’s less savoury nightly traffic. The Cave, smelling of water and steel and the sharp pungent muscle balm Tim started using before he ever hit the streets in a cape.

Tim. There, there,  _ I’m here Bruce it’s me we found you _ . Robin, partner, detective, son. A red tunic and black cape begging him to  _ remember, please remember me. _ Years of easy nights and crises, of fighting with broken ribs and physics homework. A hand, reaching through grief, darkness, time itself. Tim, who refused to forget or be forgotten. 

Tim’s voice saying _Batman._ _Gotham’s in trouble._

Yet Tim had changed as well. Quieter, more withdrawn, moving with an element of sharpness Bruce remembered better on other faces. He was around less, and he spoke of other heroes (even his own brother) with less excitement than he used to, if at all. Perhaps there had been a falling out? 

Asking Dick had yielded unsatisfying results; he’d gone curiously blank, more Bat than bird, and made a banal comment that Tim’s investigations had left him working solo for most of the last year. Enough information to imply it was a simple and logical result of new habits, while also not explicitly saying anything and allowing Bruce to draw his own conclusions.

So a lie. 

Bruce decided he’d tag it as a pending, non-urgent investigation and keep an eye out for additional clues.

It didn’t take long for those clues to present themselves.

It was only Bruce’s second time back on the Watchtower since his return, and he was going through some of the more sensitive files that were stored exclusively on-site. A lot had happened in the time he had been gone, and he needed to be updated.

Of course, it wasn’t widely known he was back on the League roster since “Batman” had already been listed. Bruce could tell because he had already encountered three situations of varyingly sexual conduct, two of people not maintaining their masks, and a rather awkward exchange with Congorilla where the man-now-ape hadn’t seemed to realize Bruce was a new person.

Apparently Dick had not done a good job of keeping team paranoia high enough to keep everyone fully dressed while onboard. Bruce couldn’t pretend he wasn’t looking forward to reminding them. 

There would be retribution and powerpoints.

Still, what this lingering effect meant was people were gossiping much more openly to the point where he hadn’t had to even  _ try _ to find out the interpersonal relationships of the new line-up. It was incredibly convenient, if a terrible habit.

Less convenient was the constant chatter everywhere. Bruce was trying to get through at least three months of global conflicts tonight, and the voices of people like Oliver fucking Queen were not helping.

“All I’m saying is, are you totally sure the info the kid gave you checks out? He’s not exactly a reliable source these days.” How was Queen not immediately outed by his incredibly unique and obnoxious cadence? That was one of the biggest mysteries on the satellite. No one else on the planet paced their speech like they were in a three-legged race with a coat rack. 

A distinct,  _ I could kick your ass _ scoff. Dinah, then. “There’s no reason for Red Robin to try to sabotage me on this project.” What. Why would Red Robin be trying to sabotage  _ any _ project of another hero?

“I’m not talking sabotage, I mean what if he’s just wrong? I thought you didn’t take leads from crazy.” For a moment, Bruce’s mind was still. And then it was in motion too fast for even him to track.

He hadn't spoken to any of his colleagues about the differences he'd seen in Tim. In fact, where at least Clark would ask after each of his children, he hadn't mentioned Tim recently. Just "Robin and Nightwing." Bruce had assumed he was concerned about the transition between Batmen. 

Was Tim's reticence a result of a schism with the community? Why was Queen so comfortable calling one of  _ Bruce’s sons _ crazy?

This investigation was suddenly much more urgent. He needed more information.

“I take leads from sources with a history of accuracy. But if it’ll give you peace of mind, I did confirm it with Oracle.” So even Dinah was cautious enough about Tim’s word to back it up with a secondary source. 

“A history of accuracy?”  _ Yes, Queen that’s what you say to refer to someone with good judgement that actually hits their targets consistently, _ Bruce didn’t even try to stop the acerbic thought. “The kid spent most of a year trying to prove a dead man wasn’t. Did you know one of my remaining League of Assassin’s contacts puts him involved in a conflict between the League and the Council of Spiders? And you’re going to take  _ his _ word on what they’re up to?”

Tim had been what. Bruce only had the skeleton of a file on the Council of Spiders, more conspiracy theory than hypothesis. And apparently Tim had had some kind of run in with them. 

They weren’t done. “There is very little word on any details of that situation. And if anything, that puts Red Robin in an excellent position to know. The only concern was  _ how _ he could know. But given the last time he made an unsupported claim he turned out to be right, I was at least going to look into it.”

It was apparently Queen’s turn to scoff, “You’re giving a kid drowning in grief far too much credit. Obsessing over the right thing doesn’t make it rational. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt too, for Conner’s sake if nothing else, but Red Robin is a time bomb. I don’t want it to be  _ my _ family he explodes on.”

“And it won’t be. But have a little faith in my ability to make these calls. I’m not going to be acting on  _ any _ lead from a seventeen year old without checking it twice.” The creak of leather, and at first Bruce thinks it’s Dinah’s jacket, but no it’s the armrests of his chair straining beneath his hands.

What  _ right _ did they have to doubt  _ his son’s _ investigative abilities? When he was the only person in the world to see the pieces Bruce had left behind, to put them together, where they hadn’t even made an effort? And they judged him for it.

Batman was moving without conscious thought, the flow of a fight directing his silent steps into the shadows, around the corner, and directly behind Queen. Dinah’s eyes widened as he loomed out of seemingly nowhere.

“Is there a problem.” The growl was more pronounced that he usually allowed on the Watchtower, but Batman found he had no qualms.

“Mother of god!” Queen shrieked, somehow still staggering his words even as he jerked himself to Dinah’s side. At least his reflexes were intact.

“Batman. We were just discussing my most recent run-ins with the League of Assassins. The situation is still developing, but I have it handled,” Dinah said, straight to the point and clear. Normally Batman would appreciate it. Right now he was seething.

“You had some concerns regarding a source.” Batman could not think past the rage to give his words the lilt of a question. He didn’t care.

Dinah controlled her reaction, only a tension creeping into her shoulders and her jaw, but Queen blanched as he knew himself to be caught out. Still, he tried to rally. “I was expressing concerns about relying on information from a kid still recovering from a psychotic break with unclear ties to a criminal organization. Perfectly valid, considering.”

“I fail to see how an open-minded and thorough investigation following inconclusive evidence equates a psychotic break. Especially when his initial hunch turned out to be  _ right _ , suggesting powerful intuition and inductive reasoning skills. Not that you would know anything about detective work,  _ Ollie. _ ” Batman turned his stare to Dinah, daring her to defend her moron. “If you have any further concerns about the state of any of  _ my _ operatives, I’m more than happy to discuss them.”

Black Canary had never been one to back down from a challenge. “Your operative? Red Robin has spent the majority of the last year associated with no particular team and beholden to zero regulation. Rumour puts him at varying levels of involvement in more than one villainous outfit, from the Ünternet to the League of Assassins. Do you even know where he  _ is  _ right now, or what he’s doing?”

On the offensive now, Queen sneered. “Unclear evidence? We had a corpse, Batman. It doesn’t get much clearer than that. He’d have to be psychic or unhinged to believe you were still alive, and since everyone knows your stance on metas we came to the ‘logical conclusion.’” 

“I suppose it was also logical to completely disregard, isolate, and belittle a teenager you believed to be suffering?” Batman had no intentions of losing this fight. “Given your treatment of Harper, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Both Canary and Queen were stiff now. “Keep your inept parenting strategies within your own family, and  _ away from mine _ .”

Batman turned to leave, already planning his patrol route in Gotham to work off the fury, “And right now Red Robin is in Gotham closing a series of missing persons cases I asked him to handle.”

The zeta to earth was quick, and as soon as he landed, Batman hit the streets.

Knowing Tim, he would likely have noticed the pattern in victimology on his initial read (ex-con high school dropouts trying to get their GEDs) and this far into the night he’d have already set up surveillance at two potential pick-up points. Batman found seven total, and given four were within Red Robin’s territory he had likely started there. But where had he begun and which of the remaining two was he headed to next?

One fell on the southmost edge, near his usual entry point, and another only seven blocks east, so those were likely where he went first but the other two were a similar enough distance away for that to be inconsequential. Across the street from a library in Chinatown and a homeless shelter on 114th.

Both had their merits, and Batman likely would have gone with the library for purely alphabetical purposes, but his gut told him that wasn’t where he’d find his son. 

Tim would always start with the people.

He swung through the streets, searching, and still nearly missed the crouched figure on the rooftop, swallowed by their own cape.

The figure didn’t miss him either, standing and parting the black to reveal a flash of red and gold. “B. Is there a problem?”

“My night unexpectedly opened up. Figured I’d offer to help you set up your cameras and we could patrol while we wait for something to ping,” he replied, more Bruce than Batman despite the wind. He didn’t mind. 

Red Robin grinned, a sharp smile at odds with his cowl, “Sure thing, B. Just finished here, and then there’s another five to scope out. After that we can roll.”

Batman raised an unseen eyebrow, knowing Red would read it anyway, “I counted seven pick-ups.”

“There’s nine. A couple are close together, but I’m fairly sure Henderson got grabbed after a late night mass, not at the convenience store where cameras have Lees getting picked up. And the Zuretski twins went separately, a few hours and blocks apart. I was able to wire the cafe front during my lunch today." Red was already pulling out his grapple and falling into place beside Batman, like muscle memory. "Wanna go two each and race to-" he cut himself off, smile slipping away as if remembering something. The night seemed to dim slightly.

Bruce refused to let it. "To the thrift store in the Narrows? If you think you can keep up."

Tim looked up at him, warm and a little raw. "Me? You're the old man. Old and out of shape."

"Harsh."

Laughter, bright but a little jagged. Out of practice. "What'll be harsh is the look on your face when you  _ lose _ , old man."

And he was off, a streak of red wrapped in black, arcing away.

Bruce aimed his grapple and swung out, already planning how to get a leg up on his partner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got there! Took a minute and a half to get it done, but needing to write something else is the best motivator to finish things (in this case you can thank my philosophy paper).
> 
> This is also took longer because Bruce wouldn't shut up and needed to go check on his bird after that convo. T'was out of my hands. I'm also pretending the fallout between them for Red Robin #26 hasn't happened so do with that as you will. 
> 
> It was pretty great writing this, and I had a blast. Once again thanks to the Capes and Coffee discord for helping me stay on track for this. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it!!

**Author's Note:**

> I have had an honestly really good time writing this even if there was a lot of yelling involved. Shout out to the Capes and Coffee discord for putting up with my childish whining.
> 
> For real though, I re-read so many comics to timeline this out and in the end I still just made up the section with Starman and Jesse Quick because there are only 6 months (six issues) between Bruce's "death" and Blackest Night. 
> 
> The opening and closing lines in Barry and Hal's conversation are from Blackest Night issue #8; in between "Bruce is alive" and "what about the Entity" is mine.
> 
> Title comes from the song "Surfin Bird- Bird is the Word" by the Trashmen and honestly it is thematically so not even close to this fic but you should check it out anyways. It's fun. 
> 
> The last part will be out relatively soon, I'm just putting this bit out now to force myself to hurry up. 
> 
> My writing blog is tablestoastandtime.tumblr.com if you want to yell at me or something.
> 
> Edit: I found the tumblr post that inspired this! I'd give you the original, but the account deactivated so here's a reblog I ran across; https://mooitstimdrake.tumblr.com/post/150373295979


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